


Le Destin Tragique de François Beignet

by SBG



Series: Butts and Hands [3]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Crack, Danny's ass, Fluff, M/M, Other, Timestamp, what is this I don't even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-27
Updated: 2012-01-27
Packaged: 2017-10-30 04:42:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBG/pseuds/SBG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A biography of a brave little butt doughnut named François.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Le Destin Tragique de François Beignet

**Author's Note:**

> I've had a week. I almost murdered my boss today due to her neurotic breakdown about file folder labels. I got new ink last Saturday, which means it's itching like MAD right now. Some moron keeps messing with the boiler at work and stewing us all in our own juices. Etc.
> 
> So, I wrote a fic about François. Please be aware it's ridiculous at best, horrifying at worst.

H50H50H50

Since he’d come involuntarily out of the closet, life was nonstop uncertainty. Almost instantly, he had missed the boring atmosphere and the safety the closet had offered. Ten minutes out, and he thought maybe he wanted back in. He’d known for years, though, that he could not spend his whole existence tucked away from reality. Ten minutes into the real world and he wished he could go back in, deny the part of himself that made him who he was. What it was, he thought, was that he couldn’t take the stress of not knowing. 

He had no idea which of the three individuals in the room was meant for him. 

He didn’t know what signals to look for, as his experience was sorely lacking. Before the closet, he’d only seen the inside of a factory just north of Beijing, and then nothing but the dark interior of a box until being unpacked and shelved in the Hawaii Medical Center East emergency department supply closet. Once there, he only caught glimpses beyond the door, but that was it. The environment hadn’t been conducive to education. They were there to serve, no more and no less.

Of course, the closet had been rife with rumors of what happened Out There (now Out Here, he supposed) anyway, but those that had gone Out Here had never returned so far as he knew. The gauze pads and rolls were supposedly doomed to die bloody or worse. The arm slings would likely end up collecting dust under a bed. The rectal thermometers were the butts of all the jokes for obvious reasons. For him, and those built like him, fate depended so much on the wide and varying possible causes for which he might be needed.

That was why he eyed the three people with dread and curiosity both.

After some consideration, he thought maybe he had figured out the odd trio. The quiet, wavy-haired man in the corner looked like he might be suffering from hemorrhoids. That wasn’t so bad, he thought with relief. The man was fit, so there was little chance of premature explosion the first time. On the other hand, he thought as the man sat down in a chair next to the gurney without a trace of discomfort, maybe it wasn’t him. He turned his scrutiny to the other man. Tall, dark and obviously unhappy, he too looked very fit except for … that facial expression was unhappy but also filled with pain and he looked gaunt. The man appeared to have something jammed in an unfortunate orifice. He caught a glimpse of the back door area, and almost _wanted_ that one to be his new life partner. It was not meant to be, as that man sat on the window ledge with ease.

That left the lithe, very slender woman. Well, he had been made to inflate for both teams, after all. He was open to her, yes, indeed. In fact, she looked like the least likely to scar him physically or emotionally. As if she heard his rumination, she turned, picked him up and gave him a little tweak between her thumb and forefinger. If he could, he would have blushed.

“This needs something,” she said, then smiled. “I know just what.”

She set him down on a vinyl chair, spun and walked out of the room. Her motion didn’t appear impeded to him, movement of muscles very fluid. Her butt looked a little on the bony side. Hmm. Apprehension developed in the hole where his stomach should have been. Maybe this was all a big mistake. Maybe he should have tried harder to hide behind the others, offer up one of his cousins. If he wasn’t meant for any of the only three people he’d seen outside of hospital personnel, then what horror might still await him? He wished he had legs with which to run away.

“It’s going to be all right, brah,” Quiet and Wavy said.

“You don’t know that,” Tall and Dark said back, without a second’s hesitation. “You didn’t see it. And considering where it happened, there could be infection.”

The men continued speaking, but in murmurs, when the woman came back still not limping or looking like she needed to be intimate with him. It was a pity. Or, that was what he thought until she uncapped a large black marker, stared at him with an intense, gorgeous look (lower lip bitten for a moment, very fetching), then picked him up and started … oh, it tickled, whatever she was doing, started to feel quite good after a minute or so. Stimulating. He didn’t know how, but after a certain point, it was as if his vision improved. Everything became sharper, clearer, like he could truly see at last.

“Kono, what are you doing to … oh my God, really? That’s perverse,” Tall, Dark and Moody said as he moved to stand next to the woman. “You might be a little sick in the head.”

The woman, Kono, laughed. In the otherwise tense atmosphere of Out Here, the sound was like bells. He wondered how he could make her injure herself so he could stay with her. He rode a wave of new love, fairly bursting with it, until Kono of the musical laughter lifted him up and he saw reflected in a shiny piece of medical equipment what she’d done to him. Both sides. It stunned him at first. He guessed he had been incorrect in assessing Kono as the least threat to his well-being. He looked lewd, completely lecherous. Once the initial reaction faded, he realized he kind of liked it, given that he was what he was. Kono was cleverly devilish.

“What?” Quiet and Wavy said, coming closer. “What the hell, cuz?”

“You too, Chin? You have no sense of humor.”

“Danny has no sense of humor and that is not funny.” 

Now, he was just off the emergency room supply closet shelf, but he swore he saw amusement in Chin’s eyes and a quirk at the corners of the man’s mouth. He also saw Chin shoot a cautious glance toward Tall, Dark and Moody to make sure that his amusement went unnoticed. 

“Pfft, Danny’s hilarious. Sometimes it’s like you guys don’t even know him,” Kono said. “I wonder how many stitches.”

“Too many,” a new voice said. “Too many fucking stitches and you know who here has damned cold hands, which made the whole thing far more uncomfortable than it had to be.”

He was still cradled in Kono’s arms, so when she turned, he turned. A short man wearing a hospital gown, paper booties and nothing else but a stark frown shuffled toward them with the aid of a sour-faced woman in white. The man’s shock of blond hair went this way and that, his color pale and sickly. Ah, obviously his new mate. He evaluated the man, but couldn’t see the most important part of anatomy. 

“Was it really necessary for all of you to be here to witness this humiliation?” the man continued. His voice was gruff yet also soft, presumably from painkillers. “Getting knifed in the ass wasn’t bad enough on its own?”

“Aw, Danny, we care about that ass of yours,” Kono said, cheerful in a way that sounded not quite genuine, to mask concern. “Can I see it?”

“Kono,” Tall, Dark and Moody said, irritation apparent.

“That is our cue to leave, cuz,” Chin said. “You look like you’re going to be okay, Danny. Glad you’re up and about.”

“Thanks, Chin,” Danny mumbled, appearing as though up and about was a very temporary situation.

“But I really want to see it.” Kono tossed him on the gurney as Chin snagged her by the arm and both headed out. “Just a peek.”

“No,” Tall, Dark and Moody and Danny shouted at the same time. 

Tall, Dark and Moody stood in front of the gurney, blocking his view of everything but a nice set of broad shoulders, tapering waist and a slightly anemic-looking butt that looked like it just needed a decent meal or twenty to regain fighting form. He was starting to think that even though he had been created for men and women alike, he preferred men. Huh. Guess he was lucky to be paired up with a man, then, who made the few last assisted steps to the gurney and stood facing it, next to T, D and M. The guy had sharp blue eyes, crow’s feet deepened by a grimace. Stubble on his face made him appear careworn, like he had lived a life about which stories could be told.

“What the hell, Steve?” Danny said, staring down at the bed where he lay.

“Kono,” Steve said with a shrug, then turned to the nurse. “Where’s the doctor?”

“He’ll be in shortly. In the meantime, I think it’s safe to get him in something more suitable for going out in public.”

“No, no. I like flashing my bare ass at the world. The draft is also nice on the twi…branch and berries. Feels fantastic. It’s very kind of you to take such good care of me. I will be sure to give you a glowing review. You’ll probably get a raise out of it.” 

Danny said it all without once looking away from him, his eyebrows knitted for a second, then raised, then went back to the scowly furrow. He thought it was all over, that a replacement would be called for. It wasn’t his fault he’d been permanently disfigured. It wasn’t fair; he hadn’t even seen the goods yet. He didn’t know why, but he already felt invested in this. 

“I hope you’re not always so charming,” the nurse said dryly. “It’s more than the world can take.” 

“Jesus, give me a break here,” Danny said, rubbing a hand through his hair, then again when he realized it was in disarray, trying to slick it down. “It’s been a rough day.”

“Do you think he’ll be released?” Steve asked.

“I can answer that,” a man in a white coat said, breezing through the door. “I’m Doctor Kauhi, and Detective Williams can definitely go home as long as there is someone there to assist him.”

“He’s coming home with me. I’ll see to him,” Steve said. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Oookay,” Doctor Kauhi said.

Danny’s eyes went wide, attention sticking to Steve and the doctor as they moved aside and began speaking in low tones.

“Can you believe it?” Danny said, directly to him. “They’re carrying on like I’m not even here. I’m not sure how this is my life. First I get stabbed in the ass, then stitched up by someone with the bedside manner of Torquemada, and now I’m being involuntarily committed to a madhouse, all on one day. Shit.”

The nurse, who apparently didn’t realize she wasn’t being spoken to, said, “Cry me a river, handsome. Be glad you have people who care. For the record, I was gentle with you.”

The nurse proceeded to wrestle Danny into his clothes. During the altercation, he was finally able to set his eyes on Danny’s butt. Not too shabby, he thought, though it was difficult to say with that ugly swatch of gauze covering half of it. By the time they were done dressing Danny in soft, blue scrubs that accentuated his eyes, Steve returned and Danny looked grey and shaky. The nurse picked him up, frowning at his new faces before rolling her eyes.  


“Let me get this straight. You practically kicked me out of your place not a month ago, and now you invite me back to recuperate? You give me whiplash sometimes,” Danny said to Steve. To the nurse, he said, “I don’t need that thing.”

“Wheelchair’s standard,” the nurse said and settled him on the seat of the chair, swiped one hand toward him. “Deal with it.”

That was when it happened. Danny gave in and his view was unimpeded as the small man eased onto him slowly. There was nothing but his face on what had to be, when uninjured and padded, a mighty fine ass. He’d find out in three, two…

Oh. Oh, my, yessss.

H50H50H50

He was very disappointed when Danny spent most of the first three days of recovery lying on the sofa, leaving him to gather dust on a chair. He knew he shouldn’t complain. There were worse fates to be had than to be set aside for future use. And he _would_ see future use. He’d had a taste of Danny’s backside and he wanted, maybe needed, more. He spent the time learning things, about Danny and unfortunately also about Steve. Like the way Danny always carped at Steve as though he was angry, but then gave the other man fond smiles when he wasn’t looking. Steve, in turn, would spend a creepy amount of time watching while Danny slept, both on the sofa and the guest room bed. And the guy was very handsy. 

He wasn’t a genius and was still new to Out Here, but he thought the way they danced around each other meant something. What he did know was that every time Steve managed to get his hands on Danny, he was … jealous wasn’t right. Envious, more like. If he could talk, he would have screamed for Danny to use him already, that that was what he was for.

And then one blessed day after so many languishing in the corner, he was commissioned for full-time use and it was _heaven_. He didn’t care that he couldn’t see or hear whenever Danny perched on him. Nothing else was as important as this. The warmth of Danny’s ass filled him with such contentment he could not even describe it with accuracy. The connection he felt went beyond the job. He surprised himself with how attached he got, not only to the bottom he cushioned and protected, but with Danny as a person. He supposed it was due to the intimate nature of their relationship. He spent a lot of time with his face pressed into Danny’s buttocks.

No one could fault him for developing feelings. It wasn’t alarming at all how fast they’d hit him. 

The days passed quickly for him and Danny, conveniently alone together while Steve went to work. They didn’t do much, because Danny wasn’t up for it. He didn’t mind. He relaxed while Danny watched daytime television that made him yell (the vibrations, now _they_ were something else) and snuggled with books and magazines. That wasn’t so exciting for him, but Danny enjoyed it so he did by association. Overall, he felt useful and, dare he say it, loved. Danny loved and needed him. 

Life was beautiful. 

H50H50H50

Several times, critical incidents occurred when he was not present. He always witnessed the aftermath, which was dreadful enough. He could only imagine what had caused such anguish on Danny’s part. It was truly dreadful to see. Right now, for example, he watched in helpless horror as Steve guided a white-faced Danny to the sofa to lie down. He wanted legs again, so he could rush to Danny’s butt and give it the care it needed and Steve could obviously not provide.

“I’m sorry,” Steve murmured.

“Don’t apologize. I was there too, you know,” Danny said. “I wanted to as much as you.”

He connected the dots. He wasn’t fresh out of the box. He’d come a long way since the supply closet. Because he understood the subtext, he really wanted to kill Steve for being the one to hurt his Danny. He vowed to make Danny feel great tomorrow to make up for Steve being a dillhole today, and those other times. Steve’s touch was evidently toxic; his was healing. 

He won.

H50H50H50

Visits to the doctor were never fun for him. He always got flashbacks of closet life, which he hated now that he knew how fantastic Out Here could be. Not only that, but Danny was always manhandled to the point of exhaustion. That meant it was naptime when they got home, not one-on-one time for him and Danny. It made him prematurely cranky, knowing that the whole rest of the day was shot for him.

“It’s starting to look really good,” Doctor Kauhi said. “Whatever modifications you’ve made to your routine, they’re working.”

“Good, because not having Steve touch me is torture,” Danny murmured quietly.

He … argh. He was the one cradling Danny through this every day. 

“Hmm?”

“Steve’s - McGarrett's been good at giving me a hand. He makes sure I don’t do too much.”

“Good, good,” the doctor said.

Steve was why the healing process was stunted, he thought. Stupid Steve and his stupid hands.

“You’re doing well enough I think you can probably go back to work, desk duty only, for half days. Keep the doughnut handy as well, keep using it when you sit.”

Ha, the doctor was on his side.

H50H50H50

“I’m starting to hate you and your ass face,” Steve, sitting next to him on the sofa, leaned down and whispered to him one evening after Danny had left the room to get snacks. “Just so you know.”

He was distinctly uneasy around Steve from that point on.

H50H50H50

Danny liked to talk. He loved that Danny liked to talk. He loved pretty much everything about Danny. It wasn’t just that he got to give comfort when needed. It wasn’t that he watched a gory injury get better and better every day, thereby giving him more and better access to that fine butt. It wasn’t even all about the magnificent tushie, though that alone would sink any ship. He was a giver of comfort and pleasure, sure, but Danny gave it back to him every time he spoke. Or laughed. Oh, God, the vibration from laughter was awe-inspiring and left him afraid he might deflate from satisfaction. So in that respect, Danny being back to work was good. Danny talked more when there were other humans around with whom to exchange words and laughter. What was good for Danny was good for him. 

On the other hand, Steve was one of those other humans at work.

Danny was currently conversing with a woman. He couldn’t recognize her voice, muffled as it was, but the exchange hadn’t gone on too long when Danny abandoned him to stand. He hated when Danny abandoned him, as he felt almost instantly cold and lonely.

“I mean, weird weird, not weird normal or normal weird,” the woman said.

In the cold light of day and from his slightly skewed vantage point, this new woman was very thin and bland. He didn’t know why he’d never seen or heard of her before, but he wasn’t sad about that. She … she just looked at Danny’s butt. That was _his_ butt, thanks. He could not like her now, for that infraction if nothing else. Auch, she did it again. 

“For example, does he really think we’re supposed to remember all those mimey actions he taught us the other day? I’m pretty sure he made over half of them up. Though I suppose there are benefits to that kind of instruction.”

Danny didn’t respond. He stood there as if in a daze, attention focused somewhere outside of his office. 

He saw Steve out there, circling like the shark he was.

“Hey,” the woman said, shaking Danny gently by the shoulder. “You okay?”

“I’m great,” Danny said to her, but his eyes were still on Steve. “Tell you what, I’ll talk to him. Get him to be less weird, if I can.”

Danny leaned and picked him up, cradled him in big, strong arms he rarely got to enjoy. He didn’t need any more than Danny’s butt, but it was nice to be held sometimes. It gave him affirmation that Danny loved him. The love became tainted when Danny shifted his hold to reach for Steve with one of his hands and pulled him away.

“I hate Lori,” Steve said. “She just checked out your ass.”

He begrudgingly found himself sharing common ground with Steve, the overgrown, if stupidly good looking, ape.

“No, you don’t hate her, you moron. She doesn’t give a damn about my ass.”

Not true. It had looked to him like that Lori woman had been four seconds away from copping a feel. 

“She was in there talking about you. She always talks about you. _You_ have to talk to _her_ , or maybe I’ll start hating her. Maybe I already do.”

He didn’t appreciate the underlying _feelings_ being tossed around in that. He understood Danny’s nuances, probably better than anyone. He gave a mental harrumph. He had no idea what Danny saw in Steve. It sullied what _he_ and Danny had.

“No, you don’t, either.” Steve smiled, the handsome bastard.

“Then I hate you,” Danny said and gave _him_ a squeeze, not Steve. “Because I can’t blame her for wanting you, despite how you’re a giant goof.”

As soon as Danny’s arms embraced him in a hug, the expression on Steve’s face went from involuntary manslaughter to murder one. His discomfort around the guy was not unfounded.

“I hate you more,” Steve said, petulant as a child.

“Aw, babe. You say the sweetest things when you’re sexually frustrated.”

No. No words like sex in conjunction with Steve. N. O.

“Fuck, Danny.” Steve covered his face with his hands. “Why can’t you be better already?”

He was sure it made him a terrible doughnut-shaped coccyx cushion, but he did not want Danny to get better anytime soon. The inevitability of it was more than he thought he could take. Out Here was a cruel, cruel place sometimes. 

H50H50H50

“Danny, Jr?” Danny asked, quirking an eyebrow down at him. “No, that might be too obvious and self-aggrandizing, and I am nothing if not modest. Hmm.”

He was getting a name. It was like a dream come true. He was nervous, but excited because he trusted Danny implicitly not to give him a horrible moniker like Rufus or Bob or Sawyer. He liked the idea of being a junior, thought it was sweet, but he had no voice or vote. Not fair. 

“Anthony Ray?” Danny frowned. “No, definitely not, though I’m not going to lie, you look as though you like big butts.”

Danny paced in front of him, silent and pondering, for a good three minutes. He stopped, turned to him and snapped his fingers. He gave a little bow, and gestured with his hands.

“I hereby dub thee François.”

The name rolled over him. He did feel … French. _Oui, oui. Je t'aime_ , Daniel, François thought. That time he’d spent terrified of what would become of him Out Here had all been for naught. His life was practically perfect in every possible way. If only Steve would get a clue and stop putting his hands on Danny, then François would be the happiest butt doughnut, or should he say _beignet_ , in all the land.

H50H50H50

The horrified expression on Steve’s face the first time Danny used François’s name in front of him was absolutely priceless.

 _Va te faire foutre, Étienne._

H50H50H50

François had, perhaps, grown too smug in the pure joy of having a life partner so committed to him he bestowed him with a beautiful name and gave him such tender attention. He was never tossed aside like rubbish, a big fear he’d had in his closeted life. 

He realized somewhat too late that he had actually been in a bit of denial about a lot of things. He saw it all now. For one, his time with Danny would have drawn to a close soon whether he liked it or not. He had an intimate view of that butt daily, and as it healed it had become more and more beautiful, unhindered by thick bandages. That was all very wonderful for Danny, but for him it meant the end was near. He wanted to make his last few days truly special, savor every minute.

He was terrified he was not going to have that chance.

“Say it. Call this stupid thing François one more time,” Steve said, sounding more than a little angry and unreasonable.

Oh, yes, he saw it now. He had never truly been in the competition for Danny’s affections. Steve outweighed him by a hundred and eighty pounds and had hands. Big, strong hands which were quite lovely. François noted that in a detached kind of way, as those pretty hands waved him around dangerously threatening to defenestrate him with one little slip. Damn all the windows in this place. He hated that Danny had allowed this Neanderthal to grab him.

No, no, he took it back. He didn’t hate Danny, couldn’t. It wasn’t his sweet Danny’s fault. He had to make Danny understand that, somehow. François couldn’t do anything. He was a damned butt doughnut, and one with delusions of grandeur, at that.

In his arrogance, François had lost his caution around Steve, but at the same time – what exactly could he do against a breathing thing with amazingly long fingers and a love for Danny that had run deeper and for a longer period of time than his had? He was at a severe disadvantage. For his own safety, he would have surrendered if he could have. He also would have run away. Both seemed the easiest ways to avoid massacre. He’d never been so helpless, not even when he’d nearly suffocated on the way over from China. 

“What are you doing, Steve? Put him down before something bad happens.”

“Him? _Him_?” 

“François, buddy, hang on,” Danny said to him, arms up, palms out in a placating pose. “Steven, will you just relax and think about this for a second?”

“That’s _it_ ,” Steve growled. His hands tightened to choking strength. “I warned you, Danny.”

It happened so fast. 

One second, François fought to keep his seams from splitting or his plug from dislodging as he was strangled to death. The next, Steve hauled him to Danny’s desk, where he could do nothing but watch as the man picked up a wicked silver letter opener. Harsh office light glinted off of it. Oh, _merde_ , the long goodbye he had only just resigned himself to was not going to happen. There came sudden, whitehot pain, over and over. His life flashed before him, the last weeks so golden and precious everything that had happened during them played twice.

Weeks ago, he couldn’t have known it would end this way. He regretted nothing but the fact he was only a butt doughnut. Well, and maybe that someone as undeserving and murderous as Steve got to be with Danny while he was bound to die.

“No,” Danny shouted. “No!”

Steve dropped the letter opener and him, as if stunned by his own actions. Not stunned, François thought. Victorious.

François fluttered to the floor, his life’s air rushing out of him till there was barely a trickle. His world started to darken around the edges, but he could still see Danny rush to his side and stare down at him with sad, sad eyes. There was bright light behind him, creating a halo effect. Danny, his angel. François wanted to tell Danny he would be fine without him, but it hurt too much to think how Danny would go on as if he had never existed. As the rest of his air depleted, his last thoughts were of the brief, wonderful, disastrous life he had led, and that Danny would never know how much love François had for him.

And thus was the tragic destiny of one François Beignet, beloved, if ephemeral, guardian of Danny’s ass.


End file.
